


Happiness Is a Warm Gun

by TitaniumKitten



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe, Evil Triple H, M/M, Roman is a hitman, Violence, complete disregard for how the law actually works, non-graphic mention of past rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-10-20 16:43:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10666686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TitaniumKitten/pseuds/TitaniumKitten
Summary: Roman is a hitman used to making statements with clean, uncomplicated kills. Babysitting some idiot was not on his top ten things to do. Ever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This idea turned into kind of an earworm. I'm not super happy with it, but I'm tired of fiddling with it. I hope you enjoy. As an additional warning to the tags, while there is no actual non-con in the story, there are a couple non-graphic mentions of rape. So if that may upset you, please sit this story out.

Roman sighed and looked at his watch. This was so not his kind of gig. He was a ‘grab it and go, single bullet to the back of the head in the desert’ kind of guy. Making a statement with clean, uncomplicated kills. Babysitting some idiot was not on his top ten things to do. Ever. And now the guy had the audacity to be late to his own kidnapping. He glanced down at the picture he had of the poor sonofabitch. Good looking in a scruffy way he supposed. Lean in the waist, reddish blond mop of hair, blue eyes...

_“You want me to babysit some kid? Not...exactly my skill set, Hunter.”_

_“It’s more than just being a babysitter, Reigns. He’s part of the court case.”_

_Roman whistled. “Well that changes things.”_

__

__

__

_“Of course. We’ve been trying to figure out for months who the witness or witnesses are that are  giving testimony. The damn DA’s office is tight knit, but we were finally able to find an intern who would do some...unauthorized digging. Took longer than we wanted, but they gave us the three names of who ratted us out a couple hours ago. Owens is taking care of the other two.”_

__

__

__

_Roman made a face. Owens was sloppy and unnecessarily cruel with his kills, but Hunter trusted him for some reason._

__

__

__

_“So..why do you want this one babysat ‘til the end of the trial and the others are fine being butchered? What’s the difference between them?”_

__

__

__

_There was a pause while Hunter twirled his Tibaldi pen between his fingers._

__

__

__

_“I don’t really think that’s any of your business, Roman.” he said mildly._

__

__

__

_“Of course. My apologies.”_

__

__

__

_Hunter nodded absently and handed him a file folder. “Pictures, home address, work address. Scope it out over the next couple days, find his schedule and the best place to grab him. Keep him in the safe house in Glendale for a couple days. It’s fully stocked. I want him...unavailable on Saturday. We don’t want to give them enough time to figure something out by snatching him earlier.”_ “

__

__

__

_“Right, with the trial on Monday.”_

__

__

__

_“Those bastards will be scrambling. The idiots should have taken all of them into protective custody, but I suppose they got too cocky.” Hunter shrugs._

__

__

_Roman took it as the “get out” it’s meant to be and gives a polite nod, leaving Hunter’s opulent office and closing the door quietly behind him. Hunter’s request was odd to say the least, he really wasn’t much of a guy to leave loose ends. A snitch alive and breathing seemed like a bad idea, but Roman was being paid well and a job is a job_

Roman shook himself out of his reverie, luckily quickly enough to catch his target as he left the gym where he worked. Roman’s dark eyes followed him getting into a somewhat beat up pickup truck and driving out of the parking lot. Roman started up his black Jaguar XJ and followed carefully. From his schedule Roman knew he should be heading to the nearby desert to work out. It rather bemused the hit man that the guy worked at a gym but went into the desert to run and climb rocky outcrops for his workout. It certainly wasn’t ideal to have to follow the guy, but he seemed to drive to a different spot everyday and Roman didn’t have the time to see if there was a pattern. They wove through traffic, Roman expertly staying close enough to keep an eye out and far enough away to not be obvious. 

“Lake Mead…” Roman mused as he saw the pick up take the exit. He drove past the exit and pulled over to the side of the road, waiting a beat before putting his car in reverse and swinging into the exit. A few cars laid on their horns, but he ignored them and parked quickly a row down from where he could see the pickup truck. The guy was strapping a phone to his arm and took a long slow drink from a water bottle before shaking his shoulders and jogging off down into the park. Roman grabbed his bag and settled down so that the guy would have to pass him on the way to his car; it’d be easier to take him when the kid would be tired from exercising. He took out a book and put on some sunglasses. Any passerby would have thought he was just enjoying the gorgeous weather, rather than lying in wait.

Roman glanced at his watch a couple times, the guy was taking longer than usual. Dusk had almost arrived when his sharp eyes saw the dirty blond in the distance, jogging back to the parking lot. A glance around ensured there was no one around, so Roman slowly got up and stood nonchalantly as the man came closer. Just as he walked past Roman walked up behind him, sticking his Ruger LCP into the man’s ribs. 

“Walk with me. Nice and easy.” He whispered, giving another quick glance around to make sure no one was looking at them

The man gave a gasp, half twisting his body to look at Roman, but Roman put a hand on his shoulder to stop him

“To the black Jaguar. Now.”

The man walked quietly, almost meekly, which surprised the Samoan. From the guy’s file he had been prepared for a fight. A fruitless one on the guy’s part, but a fight nonetheless. And that is when Roman made the mistake of dropping his guard a little. He opened the passenger door of his car, half shoving the man inside. But he swiveled and somehow managed to kick Roman in the face. Roman reeled back, swearing and his gun spun out of his hand to land underneath a nearby car. How the hell had the guy managed that? Roman collected himself, glaring at the kid, who in turn put his fists up.

“Oh, you want to fight me? That’s cute.”

“Doin’ pretty ok so far.” came the gravelly voiced response as the other man lunged forward.

Roman ducked a wild punch and kneed the blonde in the stomach, a pained whoosh of breath letting him know he already had the upper hand again.  He rammed the kid’s head into his knee, grimacing at the sweat stain it left, then a sharp cuff to his ear. The blonde sprawled to the ground, breathing harshly, but was back up on his feet faster than Roman expected. Roman just barely dodged another punch by rolling to the side, coming up with a kick to the balls. He wasn’t proud of it, but it got the job done. The man howled, collapsing, and Roman took the opening to grab his unruly curls and slam his head into the side door of a car. Once, twice, three times and the kid was sprawled in the dirt, completely out. Roman grumbled; he’d meant to only stun the kid and he wasn’t looking forward to dragging the dead weight. He sighed and rolled up his shirt sleeves, hoisting the man up and dumping him in the passenger seat. Zip ties to the wrists and ankles, scrabbling under a junky Ford Focus for his gun, hiding the kid’s car, and Roman was finally able to leave. It was a miracle no one had walked into their little fight and Roman kicked himself. Sloppy as hell and he wasn’t sure why. He really wished he was taking this kid to the desert to kill him.

* * *

The half hour drive to the safe house was uneventful, Roman putting on some Seger and just mellowing out a bit. He was a little worried that the guy was still pretty out when they arrived, but dutifully dragged him inside and threw him on the couch in the small living room, giving a sigh.

“More trouble that you are worth, ya asshole.”

With that he stumped off to the kitchen for a glass of water and to call Hunter.

After convincing two different receptionists that yes, he was Roman Reigns and yes, Hunter was expecting his call, he finally got to his boss.

____

“I’m assuming you are calling to let me know you’ve completed your task?”

____

“Yean. Was a bit of a fight.”

____

“Not surprising.” Hunter chuckled, then his voice turned serious. “I hope the...merchandise...isn’t badly damaged?”

____

Roman glanced into the living room a bit guiltily.

____

“No. Just a little scratched and banged up.”

____

“Good. Check in with me again tomorrow or if anything comes up.”

____

“I will, sir. Goodbye.”

____

As Roman hung up the phone, he could hear a low groan. He walked into the living room, pulling up a chair in front of the couch and scrutinizing the slowly awakening man.

____

“Hey there, sleeping beauty. You’ve been out for a while.” 

____

The blonde groaned, blinking confusedly as his predicament started to dawn on him. He tried to get up before grasping the fact that his hands and feet were tied, falling back on the couch with a grunt. He tested the zip ties for a few minutes to no avail, before looking up into Roman’s amused eyes.

____

“Fuck you.” Came a venomous, but rather slurred, response along with an attempt to kick Roman. “Get your jollies outta beating and kidnapping people, motherfucker?”

____

““I think you look pretty cute with a bloody lip. Don’t make me do it again, boy.”  The Samoan said, smirking. 

____

“I’ll fucking kill you, asshole!” was punctuated with another kick attempt which went wide and Roman got the feeling he might have given the kid more than a headache during the fight, and it gave him a tiny pang of guilt though he didn’t know why.

____

“Got quite a mouth on you, kid.” Roman said, chuckling. 

____

“Yeah, well, I save it special for pretty boys who kidnap me.” he quipped bitterly. “If we’re gonna do this, I’d rather you call me by my name, dipshit. It’s Dean but I bet you already know that. ”

____

“Got some balls. Most people would be sniveling and begging for mercy by now. Or pretending they had the money to pay me more than whoever hired me.” Roman observed, unable to stop a bit of admiration. 

____

Dean shifted his body on the couch, giving a wince of pain, so he was sitting face to face with Roman, looking him straight in the eyes.

____

“I know there ain’t mercy for you to give. And I have about five hundred in my bank account. I know why you took me; know what’s going to happen. Made my peace with this bein’ possible when I decided to work for the Feds. But I sure as hell wasn’t gonna come easy. And I ain’t going to make this easy for ya.” 

____

“Then why did you? Why did you snitch?” Roman silently berated himself. Why the hell did he care?

____

Dean scowled. “Because Hunter is an asshole and I got myself too deep into somethin’ I shouldn’t have gotten into in the first place. How long are you keepin’ me in this dump until you kill me?”

____

Roman looked at him open mouthed. Balls of steel this one. Though Dean’s defiant attitude was rather soured by the loud rumbling of his stomach.

____

“Hungry?” Roman asked, amused.

____

Dean growled, looking away.

____

“I’ll take that as a yes. Don't have much fancy in the place, but I have a feeling you aren’t exactly a...Lobster Thermidor type…”

____

“I prefer my brandy in a snifter.”

____

Roman paused, this kid -Dean- certainly was intriguing. He was actually starting to enjoy the fact that he hadn’t put a bullet in him. He shook his head and went into the kitchen, making some halfway decent mac and cheese from the supplies there. He pulled a small table up to the couch and set a steaming bowl, along with a glass of water on it.

____

“You seriously want me to eat with my hands tied?”

____

“If I take the zip ties off your hands, will you behave?”

____

A scowl was the response, which made Roman give a bark of honest laughter, something he hadn’t done in a long time.

____

“Doesn’t matter, you’d lose a fight with a kitten right now.”

____

“And whose fault is that. If you’re gonna kill a guy, maybe do the courtesy of _not_ adding insult to injury by givin’ him a damn concussion first.”

____

“If you’d cooperated, I wouldn’t have had to hurt you.” 

____

Dean huffed and Roman just gave him a look as untied his hands, shaking out two tylenol from the bottle he had brought along with him. Dean raised shaky hands to his lips, swallowing the pills dry, then dug into the mac and cheese like a starving man. He steadfastly ignored Roman’s chuckles at his bad manners.

____

“Got any desert?” Dean asked flippantly

____

“You’ve got to be kidding…”

____

“Hey, mac and cheese is great, but it isn’t exactly an amazing last meal. Got pie? Could go for some rhubarb.”

____

Roman gave him a scandalized look. “Rhubarb? Cherry is the best. Rhubarb is disgusting.”

____

Dean snorted, digging back into his mac and cheese and not dignifying Roman with an answer

____

Roman just shook his head. The next couple days were certainly going to be...interesting.

____


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, please read the tags. Enjoy, I hope!

After dinner Roman idly watched some tv, unable to stop the occasional glance at Dean, who had lapsed into silence. It made Roman feel sour for some reason. He’d been nice enough to let him keep the zip ties off his wrists for now and Roman felt he deserved some thanks for it. Lost in his own mind for longer than he realized he blinked at the tv when the 11 o’clock news came on, the court trial front and center. The blue pant suited anchor didn’t really say anything new, just going over the “Prominent Business Man accused of Tax Evasion and ties underworld dealings” that every newspaper had already come out with months ago. Roman snorted to himself; “underworld dealings”...Hunter was the underworld in Vegas these days. He glanced at Dean, noting the guy’s face fall a little at no mention of new developments that may have indicated the Feds knew he was missing.

“Sorry kid. No one’s gonna come save you.” 

Dean looked up at him sharply. “Don’t think I don’t know that? Fucking Feds can kiss my ass.”

Roman chuckled, grabbing another pair of zip ties.  “I think it’s about bedtime.”

Dean scowled and his body tensed slightly. Roman scooted back in the couch, his gun out before Dean could move. 

“Dean.” He said patiently. “I’ve got a gun, you’ve got your feet tied and you’re still gonna lose out to a one on one fight with a kitten. You really want to do this? I’ll untie your legs so you can walk, but I’m getting zip ties back on your hands.”

“ _Fuck you_. I gotta piss. You really wanna hold my dick for me?”

Roman snorted and quickly undid the ties around his legs. He motioned with his gun.

“Bathroom is down the hall, first door on the right.”

Dean stood up on wobbly legs and shuffled off, Roman following closely.

“You wanna watch me piss? Really?”

“Keep the door open.” Roman grunted, about done with the guy’s attitude.

“What about a shower...I’m still in my workout clothes, dude. Got anything I can change into?”

“There’s a cabinet in there, should have some clean clothes. You got ten minutes to piss and get showered, wise guy.”

Dean shrugged and walked into the bathroom. Roman stood just outside, his back against the wall as the shower ran. Dean came out a few minutes later, hair still damp and now clad in a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants.

“All done, you perv.” He said, managing a smug smirk.

“Shuddup.” Roman growled, pushing him down the hallway to a small bedroom. 

The windows were barred and a thick door with a heavy lock on the outside

“Kinda nice, really.” Dean mentioned offhandedly. “Dunno why you’re treating me relatively decent if all you’re gonna do is put a bullet in my head.”

Roman grabbed a cuff already firmly bolted to the bed.

“Put that around your wrist.”

Dean made a face, eyeing Roman’s gun, and snapped the metal cuff. Roman tugged on it to make sure it was tight, then attached an ankle cuff for good measure.

“Behave yourself, kid. I don’t wanna have to give you another split lip...or concussion.”

Dean flipped him the bird as Roman closed the door and locked the door.

Roman sighed and set the alarms; another precaution in case Dean was feeling like being a particularly huge pain in the ass. He hoped not. The day had been oddly draining and Roman wanted some shut eye. He went into the adjoining bedroom and settled down to sleep.

* * *

He started awake to an alarm blaring and he flapped his hand around to shut off the alarm clock before realizing it was the alarm to the bedroom that had ripped him from sleep.

“Shit!”

He scrambled out of bed, grabbing his gun and a Taser from the night stand. Flying out of the door he quickly unlocked the other bedroom. 

“The **_fuck?!_** ”

The bed was empty, the wrist and ankle cuffs laying open on the bed and the bars were off the window. 

He ran outside, grabbing a shoulder mount flashlight on the way. The desert surroundings were quiet, thank god the safe house was rather remote, and he soon caught sight of Dean a couple yards away from the house, running towards the highway.

“Get back here you sonofabitch!” Roman howled and raced after him.

Dean hazarded a look back at Roman and that was his undoing, as he tripped over a rock and stumbled forward. Roman was almost on him as Dean struggled back to his feet. 

“You’ve got five seconds to get down on the ground again, or I’ll shoot.” 

“Fuck you!” Dean panted, still trying to catch his breath.

“ **_NOW!_ ** ”

Dean swung around and Roman didn’t hesitate to switch from his gun to the Taser; the blonde’s body convulsing before he fell to the ground.

“Stupid.” Roman muttered, pulling the barbs out of Dean’s shirt and pocketing the Taser. He toed Dean’s body over and pulled his hands together, once again zip tying them. Dean was moving like an uncoordinated toddler once he had hauled him to his feet.

“Almost did it…” he slurred, staggering a little.

“More trouble than you’re worth.” Roman grumbles, starting pull Dean up. “How the hell did you get outta those cuffs. And the window?”

Dean giggled drunkenly. “Cuffs were easy. Found a paper clip in the bathroom. And the bars? Whatever dipshit installed them just screwed them into the flimsy window sill.”

Roman snarled. “Definitely more trouble than you’re worth.”

“Then kill me or let me go.” came the irritating, half yelled response. “Why the fuck haven’t you killed me yet? This some kind of weird shit where you like playing with your kills?”

Roman huffed, completely and utterly frustrated.

“I’m not killing you because those aren’t my orders. Keeping you here and away from the trial and then taking you back to Hunter.”

Dean froze. “Hunter wants me back with him. He doesn’t want me dead?”

“Not even tortured. Or he’d have put someone besides me on the job.”

Dean started thrashing desperately. “Lemme go! Lemme go I _gotta_ get out of here!” 

It surprised Roman that this was the first time he’d heard genuine fear from the other man.

“Don’t squirm so much, you’re going to hurt yourself and piss me off.” he muttered, trying to get Dean to stop pulling at the zip ties.

“Kill me. Please, kill me. S-say I ran too far, got too close to the highway and there was no other way you could stop me. Come on, please! You can have the five hundred in my bank account and whatever money you can get from selling my stuff.”

“I’m not killing you. I got my orders. I have a job to do. Already going to get in enough trouble for that concussion.” Roman snapped, finally getting them both back inside. He dumped Dean on the couch, zip tying his ankles and letting out a frustrated sigh.

“I never should have gotten involved, done the shitty things I did. I wanted out even before he raped me.” 

Roman’s head snapped up. “What?”

“I didn’t grow up under the best of circumstances. That ain’t an excuse, but it’s the truth. I started out low in the organization. Kid’s gotta eat, right? Made my way up to mid level pretty quick.” Dean shrugged. “Caught Hunter’s eye right when I started deciding I was in over my head and wanted out. Difficult as hell to get out anyway. But once the boss takes notice? Impossible.”

“He raped you.” Roman said flatly

“After the third time I learned just to lie there and take it. Get fewer bruises that way.” Dean answered bitterly. “After the fifth time I got contacted by the Feds. And, well, now we’re here.”

“And you want me to kill you-”

“-Because I’d rather die than let him touch me again. And I’ve got a pretty good idea what you’ll be bringing me back to. Probably some beatings, but mostly to be his...pet. He’s fucking obsessed, dunno why.” Dean’s lip curled in disgust.

Roman took a deep breath. It was not of his damn business what Hunter wanted to do with this brat. Hell, the Samoan had over ten kills to his credit already. He wasn’t by any means a Samaritan. But those kills were quick...as painless as possible. Dean-or anyone-being held to be repeatedly raped, especially by a psychopath like Hunter, did not sit well with him, though unfortunately it _did_ answer the question why Hunter wanted Dean alive. He steeled himself.

“Sorry. I have a job to do.” He said coldly.

“Please.” 

“Since we’re already up, might as well make breakfast. But I swear, you try to pull something like that again and I’ll break one of your legs.”

Roman stumped off to the kitchen and started some eggs and bacon, steadfastly ignoring what sounded like muffled sobs from the living room. The food preparation done, he took both plates with glasses of orange juice to the couch. 

“Here.” He said shortly, holding up a forkful of fluffy scrambled eggs.

“I’m not a fucking baby. Take the zip ties off. I’ll feed myself.”

“You lost that privilege after your little escape attempt.” 

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Now eat.” 

Roman fed the enraged blonde, taking no notice of his reddened eyes as he did. The fluttery feeling in his chest was just from the adrenaline of the chase. It had to be, or he was royally fucked.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of Sunday was uneventful. Roman kept Dean zip tied except for the couple times he allowed him to use the bathroom, sweeping the entire room first to make sure there weren’t any other paper clips or nail files or something else the smaller man could use to try to get away again.  
   
A couple times Dean tried to start a conversation, convince Roman to let him go or kill him, the Samoan stoically ignored the attempts, but he could feel his resolve cracking and it terrified him. True compassion was a death knell for anyone in his industry, and he didn’t want to be done yet. He still had a couple payments on the Jaguar.  
   
But Dean wouldn’t shut up, so eventually Roman gagged him for a while. Dean glared at him with a look so piercing that Roman decided to go into the kitchen and make some business calls. Sure he was working a job and primarily worked for Hunter, but he was an independent contractor. And he was hoping to get a bigger pool at his house.  
   
He was feeling antsy, telling himself it was just nerves due to having to sit around the place and not doing anyone-any ** _THING_**...not doing **_anything_**. He was going to have to tell Hunter that he would never again do this babysitting gig. It sucked, and with Dean almost getting away, Roman didn’t seem to be as good at it as he usually was at everything else in his life.  
   
Lunch and dinner were particularly difficult. He still didn’t trust Dean without the restraints, so he hand fed him and wow, he never knew how intimate that could feel.  Or annoying, since Dean kept up a stream of pleas, then started cursing him. Roman was pretty impressed and half tempted to laugh at the profanity and insults that came out of the kid’s mouth. He did get mildly annoyed when Dean started impugning the honor of cherry pie, but at that point he had almost finished feeding him, so he just stuck the gag in his mouth and pointedly ignored him as he turned on the tv and started watching reruns of MASH.  
   
Lugging Dean to the bedroom wasn’t much fun either; especially the part where he froze and started having a panic attack when he realized Roman was dragging him into his bedroom, and not the room Dean had slept in the night before.  
“Calm down,” Roman said firmly. “I might be a killer, but I’m not going to do anything like that to you. One, I’m not that kind of a person. Two, Hunter would kill me if he found out. I’m just gonna keep my eye on you.”  
   
Roman could feel it took Dean a long time to fall asleep. He laid very close to the edge on his side of the bed. Wasn’t much, but maybe an extra bit of a gap between them would help.  
   
 

* * *

Monday dawned bright and sunny. Roman let Dean get showered and dressed; afterwards cuffing him to the kitchen table so he could eat while Roman flipped on the news, interested to see if there were any reports on the “trial of the century”. He wasn’t disappointed, as a local news station was interviewing a couple beleaguered looking attorneys.  
   
“We fully believe that the sworn testimony from our witnesses would have resulted in a conviction.”  
   
“But you haven’t been able to produce these witnesses?” Asked the reporter, obviously scenting blood in the water.  
   
“Our witnesses have been...delayed. We asked Judge Michaels for continuance.”  
   
“And the continuance was not approved, is that correct?  And there are rumors that your witnesses aren’t delayed…” The reporter said somewhat solemnly.  
   
“Judge Michaels has given us a the opportunity to provide our witnesses by this afternoon. We will see justice done. No further comment.”  
   
The lawyers strode off, leaving the reporter to give a significant look to the camera, before the broadcast went back to the studio.  
   
Roman heard a small pained noise from the other room, where he was pretty sure Dean could hear the tv. He gave a little sigh just as his phone started ringing.  
   
Hunter.  
   
Roman picked up immediately.  
   
“Amazing news, isn’t it Roman. One can _always_ put their faith in the justice system.”  
   
Roman managed not to snort. “Yes sir.”  
   
“The sixth amendment is a wonderful thing. Especially when a judge is a...staunch...Constitutionalist.” Hunter said jovially.

“Of course.”  
   
“Now, onto even more good news...how is my...present doing?”  
   
Roman grit his teeth. “Just fine. When would you like it delivered?”  
   
“Oh I think immediately. There is _such_ call for celebration, isn’t there, Roman?”  
   
“Sir. With all due respect, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. The present...I mean there are so much better ones out there don’t you think? I know of a few items you’ve liked in the past and I think they suit your lifestyle better.”  
   
“Are you questioning my judgement?”  
   
“No sir, I-”  
   
“Because I don’t appreciate people questioning my judgement. I know what I like. And I am going to fully enjoy what you are bringing me. Do you understand? Or am I going to have to get someone else to retrieve my present? Need I remind you that competition between my employees in your line of business is very...cutthroat?”  
   
“Not at all, sir. I apologize. I’ll bring it right away.”  
   
“Good.”  
   
After Hunter hung up Roman was tempted to throw his phone against the wall.  
   
“Asshole.” He muttered to himself before walking into the kitchen to get Dean.  
   
Dean was using a tine of his fork to try and pick the handcuff.  
   
“Son of a bitch. I am _not_ in the mood.” Roman growled.  
   
Dean glanced up at him. “What a coincidence. Neither am I.”  
   
Roman zip tied his wrists before unlocking the handcuffs. “Get up. We’re going.”  
   
“Back to him, huh? Last night you said you weren’t that kind of a person. Why let him be?”  
   
“I don’t have a choice.” Roman snapped.  
   
“Yeah, you do. Might end up shitty for you. But you do have a choice.”  
   
Roman just shook his head and grabbed Dean’s arm. “Come on.”  
   
A hard snap of Dean’s arm laid a bony elbow into Roman’s solar plexus.  
   
“Oh you _asshole_!” Roman wheezed, grabbing at the back of Dean’s shirt as he tried to squirm away.  
   
Dean kicked his leg back, catching Roman in his right knee, and made a beeline for the door.  
   
“It’s locked, idiot. And I have the key.” Roman managed to catch his breath and stumbled after Dean.  
   
“Fuck you. Let me go!” Dean snarled, turning to glare at him.  
   
“Fat chance.” Roman grumbled, grabbing Dean by his hair and dragging him outside after unlocking the door. “Just for that…” He unlocked the Jaguar and opened the trunk.  
   
Dean looked at him, nonplussed. “You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.”  
   
“If you weren’t being such a brat you could have been in the passenger seat.” Roman said mildly. “Now you get to enjoy the trunk. In. Now.”  
   
Dean grumbled, but with some help was able to get into the trunk. Roman shut it and hoped the idiot  wouldn’t try to get out of it. Roman had found it helpful to make a few custom changes to it.  
   


* * *

The drive to Hunter’s palatial mansion was the most difficult Roman had ever done. He kept kicking himself for getting emotional on the job, he was afraid that Dean had changed him. The height of his career was a terrible time to have a bout of self reflection. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch Dean or kiss him for it.  
   
After a while Roman realized he was fidgeting, bouncing his knee. He felt like his heart was in his throat and he quickly flipped on the radio. Somehow he had managed to leave it on a country station, and having Dolly Parton’s I Will Always Love You come warbling out of it set him even more on edge as he quickly flipped the radio off.  
   
Silence was good. Until it wasn’t.  
   


He expertly wound his car through the hills of Hunter’s neighborhood, the white stoned mansion coming up on his left. He slowed down slightly and started to turn towards the garish white and gold gate that blocked the driveway. There was a faint thump from the trunk. Roman’s hands clenched the steering wheel, the knuckles turning white.  
   
“Fuck it.” He muttered, gunning the engine.  
   
He made one quick stop before driving down an alleyway in a much less fancy part of town. Dean’s white, drawn face greeted him. Roman flicked open a switchblade and Dean’s eyes widened, panicked, before the Samoan stooped to cut the zip ties and pull the gag out of his mouth.  
   
“Get up.” Roman ordered.  
   
Dean awkwardly pulled himself out of the trunk, giving a pained grunt as he stretched his limbs.  
   
“This is definitely not Hunter’s mansion.” He remarked drily, glancing at the overflowing dumpsters. “Got about as much trash living in it, though.”  
   
Roman silently handed him a small duffle bag and an envelope.  
   
Dean opened the bag, which held a few changes of clothes in it and a light jacket; the envelope held cash, a lot of it, in twenties, fifties and hundreds.  
   
“I...don’t understand.”  
   
“Get going. There’s a Greyhound station a block up.”  
   
Dean just looked at him for a minute before giving a terse nod, shoving the envelope into the duffle bag and throwing it over his shoulder. He walked quickly down the alley, pausing at the end to glance back at Roman.  
   
“Made the right choice. Maybe you’ll make more of ‘em.”  
   
“Maybe.”  
   
Dean gave a rakish grin before stepping out of the alleyway and disappearing down the street.  
   
Roman sighed, rubbing his hand over his chin.  
   
“Fuck."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just fyi, there is some more mention of non graphic rape in this chapter. Please be careful if that may be triggering for you.

Roman sat in his car for several minutes, breathing deeply and trying to figure out what the hell he was going to do. Skipping town sounded like a great idea, but he tossed it, knowing that Hunter would, well, hunt him to the ends of the earth. Especially if he at all thought Roman had taken off with Dean. An image of Dean being held down by Hunter flashed across his mind and his fists clenched. He thought long and hard before an idea popped into his head. It was crazy. A stupid, suicidal idea. But he’d already had one today and followed through with it, why not one more. He made a quick call, then backed out of the alleyway and drove back to Hunter’s mansion.

“It’s Reigns.” He said shortly into the intercom, the gate slowly opening for him. He parked and got out of his car, smoothing down his shirt. A gigantic man opened the mansion door: Big Show, Hunter’s personal bodyguard. Roman tensed slightly. Usually the huge man was standing right behind Hunter’s left shoulder, not opening front doors like a butler. 

“Where’s the kid.” He said, making the question into a statement.

“I will discuss that with Hunter.” Roman answered, staring the man down with cooly. 

Show gave a small grin. He’d never liked Roman, and was pretty sure the discussion as to why Roman didn’t have Hunter’s latest boy toy in tow would make for some great theatrics. He patted Roman down, stepping back with a sneer.

“Upstairs. He’s in his office.”

Roman climbed the stairs, Big Show a looming presence behind him.

“Roman!” Hunter greeted him happily.

“Hunter.” Roman said evenly.

Hunter took his feet off his desk and poured himself another measure of whiskey. Roman noted Hunter had broken out a bottle of twenty-five year old Macallan and he longed for a healthy swig to calm his own nerves before everything went down.

“Where’s the rest of my celebration package? ” Hunter asked jovially, his face falling at Roman’s reserved expression.

“Unfortunately there was a problem. A near escape attempt required an...indelicate response.”

Hunter clenched his teeth. “I am disappointed in you, Roman. What a waste. He was such fun.”

Roman gave Hunter a look of utter contempt and couldn’t stop himself. “Fun when you held him down and raped him?”

Hunter set down his whiskey glass and laughed.

“Aww...that’s cute. Did the little whore sing you a sob story. Typical, these ungrateful brats. You give them a job, mentor them, and then they get uppity when you want what they owe you.”

“So you raped him.” Roman said flatly.

“I had fun, so did a couple of my men who particularly impressed me with their work on the job. My trusted employees do get perks, Roman.” Hunter gave him an odd look. “How come you’re suddenly getting a conscience?”

Roman inwardly berated himself. He needed to stay calm and cool until his plan could come into play. He had to draw this out. 

“I need to speak with you. Privately.” He answered, firmly, ignoring the question.

Hunter sighed, a rather annoyed look on his face as he waved a reluctant Big Show out of the room. “You ruin my celebration and now you are acting like the sky is falling. This better be something important, I’m already prepared to discipline your lack of finesse when it comes to my toys.” 

“You would have raped him again.”

“I would have taken what I wanted. Yes. I did mention him to Judge Michaels who was a bit interested to try Ambrose out as well.” Hunter chuckles.

A muted beeping came from Roman’s Rolex watch.

Hunter frowned. “What is tha…?” He managed to get out before Roman smoothly pulled his small .22 backup gun (Big Show really was a terrible bodyguard) and shot him twice, once in the heart, the other in the forehead. Hunter toppled backwards, a confused look on his face as he crumpled lifelessly to the ground.

A shout came from Big Show outside the room and the door slammed open. Roman leapt forwards, tumbling over Hunter’s large, ostentatious mahogany desk and hit the ground next to the fallen man. He made a face as some of Hunter’s blood soaked through his right pant leg.

“You _motherfucker_!” Big Show howled, unloading several rounds of his custom Desert Eagle into the desk, narrowly missing Roman. 

“Any time you wanna show up!” Roman growled to himself, peering around the desk and popping off a few shots at Big Show.

After four or five minutes of exchanging gunfire with an enraged giant he could hear the sound of splintering wood and shattering glass, along with some gunfire in the distance.

“Finally.” He muttered, and he didn’t have long to wait until Big Show went down in a hail of bullets from guns other than his own.

A tall, bald, muscled man stalked into the room, accompanied by several other armed men, each contemptuously stepping over Show’s body

Roman made sure to keep his hands visible as he stood up from behind Hunter’s desk.

“Cesaro…” He acknowledged warily. 

“Mr. Reigns!” Antonio Cesaro responded with a flash of even white teeth. “I am glad to see you were not harmed.”

Roman nodded, stepping from behind the desk. “Thank you for your...swift response.”

“Thank you for providing me the tools to take over Hunter’s territory.” Cesaro said with a grin, clapping Roman on the back. “Quick and clean is how I like it. Though I’d like to know what changed your mind. I thought you were quite fond of him.”

“I wouldn’t say fond...and my reasons are my own. You will uphold your end of our agreement?”

Cesaro nodded soberly. “I may be a lot of things, Roman, but I am a man of my word. I don’t truck with that sort of thing, anyhow. I find it displeasing and unnecessary.”

“I guess I’ll leave you to your...clean up.”

“Thank you. It’s amazing the kind of explosion a gas leak can do.” Cesaro responded, a smile tugging at his lips.

A large man with a shock of red hair strode into the room, holding a briefcase in one hand.

“Place is secure, Cesaro.” He gave Roman a cool glance. “Mr. Reigns, I presume.” 

Roman gave a curt nod and the man offered the briefcase to him politely.

“I’m sure you’ll see that everything is in order.” 

Roman gave a quick check to the briefcase, rifling through the stacks of bills efficiently.

“Of course. I appreciate doing business with you.”

Cesaro gave another smile. “I hope you will be going into a...new...business soon.”

“As I said, I will be finding other employment. As long as you keep your word.”

“Wonderful.” Cesaro shook his hand. “Good luck to you, Roman.”

The Samoan gave another curt nod, walking swiftly out of the room, avoiding the bodies littering the hallways. He slid into his car, locking the doors carefully, before letting shaking hands clutch the steering wheel. He had to calm himself with a few shuddering breaths before he was able to start up the car and drive away.

“What the fuck did I just do?” He muttered to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, readers. I've been battling writers block and some personal stuff for a while. Thanks for sticking with the story.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Two years later_**

The noisy jingle of the bells haphazardly tied to the push bar of the door alerted the denizens of Patty’s Diner that a new patron had arrived. Though only about half of the patrons would admit it, they were all gossip hounds. And the newly arrived visitor certainly could create much fodder for gossip in Miles City, Montana, population 8,647. Especially when the visitor looked like that! A table full of middle aged women nudged each other as the visitor strode by, passing the “Please seat yourself” sign that had seen better days.

The visitor plopped down in a booth, a teenaged waitress eagerly taking it upon herself to ask for his drink choice, before a few soft words from the stranger made her face drop slightly.

“Jon! Guy in booth 18 wants you to serve him. Says he wants some coffee. Black.” She announced rather petulantly as she reached the kitchen.

Jon frowned slightly. “Weird. Ok, Darla. I’ll handle it.” He dropped off Mrs. Carlson’s apple pie a la mode and then swung by booth 18, a steaming cup of coffee at the ready.

“Hiya, welcome to Patty’s…..” his voice trailed off as his eyes widened.

“Hello, Dean.” Roman said, cracking a smile at his incredulous face.

Dean slid into the booth hurriedly. “ ‘M Jon….Jon Moxley here.”

“Part of the reason it took me so long to find you. When I told you to get going, you really got gone.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. “I’ll have nothing to do with the past, Roman...with what happened. So you can take your ass right on out of here.”

“I’m not here about the past. Not really. I’m here about a possible future.” Roman said softly, sipping his coffee.

“What are you talking about? I….”

“Hunter’s dead.” Roman answered, simply. 

Dean sucked in a breath. “I didn’t really….I just ran...ended up here. Never looked back. Didn’t even know.”

“ I may have..uh...shot him.” Roman admits

“Jesus Christ...when?”

“Right after I dropped you off. And after I called Cesaro and set up a deal.

“Antonio Cesaro? You...you sold Hunter out to him?” Dean’s eyes get even wider.

“I made a decision. Much easier than having to run for the rest of my life. Or having you do the same. Didn’t really think everything through that much. Just...decided things had to change.”

“That’s quite a change…” Dean sits back, letting out an impressed whistle. “Damn. But...why did you take time to even find me?”

Roman takes a sip of coffee, trying to sound nonchalant. “Oh, it wasn’t to find you...just a coincidence, really. Wanted the best cherry pie in the country and I heard this was a great place for it.”

Dean let out a guffaw of pure, unadulterated humor. 

Roman felt butterflies in his stomach.

“You’re real full of shit, you know that, right?” Dean asked after his laughter subsided.

“......maybe…..but in my defense, I did really hear about how good the pie is here…”

“Yeah? Well whoever you were talking to does know their pie. Though as I think we’ve already gone over, cherry pie is gross and you have bad taste.”  


“I have great taste in pie!” Roman protested. “I have great taste in other things too…”

“Yeah?” Dean’s lips curved into a small smile.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you. Really. Wish I could take all of it back. I’m, uh...outta the business. Run a security firm now. Maybe I’m crazy...this is crazy...but...you made me feel stuff I hadn’t for a real long time and...”

“We've both got things we've done that we aren't proud of. I did some dark stuff for Hunter too." Dean's face goes hard for a moment, but then relaxes into an easy smile. "So...what you are saying is that you want to eat cherry pie and also possibly my cherry pie?”

Roman snickered. “I guess that’s one way of putting it.”

Dean had a great smile, Roman decided, and the dimples were entirely unfair.

"I’d be up for seeing what happens. You want extra whipped cream?”

Roman choked.

“On your piece of pie...that I’m about to get you…” Dean said, his eyes twinkling.

“Please. Just bring the can.”

“A man after my own heart.” Dean swaggered behind the long counter and into the kitchen to retrieve said pie.

“Definitely after your heart.” Roman said to himself quietly.

The next couple days were certainly going to be...interesting.

* * *

A year and a half later Roman let himself suffer through some rhubarb pie in lieu of their wedding cake. It was a lot sweeter than he remembered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with the story. I hope you all enjoyed. I seem to have mostly gotten my muse back, so I hope to start updating my other wip soon. Every comment and kudos is very encouraging and very appreciated.


End file.
